


Old Habits Die Hard

by ashes0909



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, BAMF!Cas, Frottage, M/M, Veteran!Cas, human!Cas, minor amputation of finger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently returned from Armed Forces, Castiel Novak wasn't expecting two brothers to break through his front door and bring with them something from his past. He hasn't decided yet whether he's happy that they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits Die Hard

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a prompt request for human!Veteran!Cas fic. As they so eloquently put it, Castiel is a warrior of God after-all, it makes sense! The request also asked to work in an amputation, something I've never written in a character before, but the suggestion led to the whole story unfolding! Funny how that happens.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

The light of the mid-afternoon sun glinted off the barrel as Castiel Novak slid the rag along the gun's length. He knew he had been back in the States long enough that people expected him to have ‘adjusted’, but old habits die hard and he always felt safer with a weapon nearby.

His siblings had expressed their discontent, Gabriel going on a long tangent about love and hugs, and Anna just rolling her eyes. But as a trained professional, Castiel kindly told them they could go mind their own business. Then he hauled himself up in the attic, setting to clean the weapon in the silence of his room.

He picked up the firing spring, lifting it towards the light so he could check for any dust particles and his blue eye was still pressed tight to it when he heard the bang from downstairs. He knew Gabriel was at work and Anna at school and the only other person with a key was their older brother Michael who told the Novak’s he was stationed in officer’s headquarters in France. Castiel had no reason to doubt his brother. Which could only mean one thing.

An intruder.

Putting together the pistol with an easy speed, he kept his ears on the sounds coming from below. A crash, followed by two grumbling voices and he was out the door, sprinting lightly down the stairs. One step, two step, one more before he slunk down into a crouch, eyes on the door. He scanned the situation with honed practice.

Two men appeared to be looking over a third unconscious figure. The long one was on his knees, finger pressed tightly on the carotid artery checking for a pulse, while his anxious looking partner crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Castiel’s tooth bit his lower lip and he briefly wondered if the man's anxiety made his chest swell so distinctively or if he was naturally that broad shouldered but quickly brushed the lingering thoughts to the back of his mind. Another honed practice during two years of service.

He slipped the pistol into his hand.

"Well?” The restless man asked with a gesture towards the body. "Is he dead?"

The longer man stood, his full height unfolding and surprising even Castiel, who was no short man on the battlefield. Castiel readjusted his stance to take into account the new threat, as said threat brushed his hand through his long locks. Those would never fly in the Marines.

"Finally looks like it. He was by far their most talented one, but I just don't get why hasn't he died like the rest?"

Castiel had no idea what they were talking about but he had enough information to know that these two men did not belong in the Novak household. They held weapons, stood over a victim, and seemed pleased with the result. He slid quietly into a standing position, gun in his hands, middle finger poised on the trigger. Ready for action.

A loud bang against the half-opened front door caused three of them jumped as one. A man appeared in the under the frame, boots scraping against the entryway as he scratched dirt from the lawn against the once white tile. Castiel grit his teeth as his eyes slid up the to the figures face.

And time slowed.

Castiel felt his body sag, leaning almost falling against the wall with a thud. He heard the two intruders when they noticed him but their yells became a mumbled tone faintly in the distance. He couldn’t take his eyes off the pink dots trickling along the man’s neck. Castiel had seen those dots before, knew what the tattoos meant.

_But why would the Rit Zien be in Pontiac, Illinois?_

Time rushed forward, a shot from one of the men and Castiel bolted forward, down the two stairs just in time for the blonde tattooed man to push past him towards the long hallway that led to the backyard.  
Castiel looked to the intruders as they looked towards each other, lack of plan evident in both of their eyes.

"You, anxious one." The man's eyebrow lifted as he pointed to himself, confused. "Yes, hurry, go left. You, tall one, go right. The rooms each cut off the hallway by the yard."

Castiel knew the Rit Zien would have to pass through the crowded atrium before making it out the back of the house and hoped the plants would use their limbs for good and trip the bastard.

He turned face and bolted out the front door, ready to intercept at the only way off the property, in case the intruders-turned-alleys couldn't stop him.

_Why are the Rit Zien in his house?_

His eyes flashed to his right hand, feeling the sting of dread hit him as it always did whenever he looked. One finger now rested shorter than the rest. The finger that mattered most, his trigger finger.

He gripped the pistol tightly and waited.

...

The kids plan worked. Sure, they had to encircle from each end just to take him down, but the murderer was now passed out on the grass in front of them, arms tied and bloody.

Dean looked over at the kid. He couldn't be more than twenty, maybe twenty-one. He had a young face with skin the color of freaking porcelain and the only blemish his five o'clock shadow. He was strong but lean and, Dean noticed as he watched him squat eyelevel with the tattooed man, he was every bit in control of his body. He looked like he probably had one growth spurt left, but the strength of his jaw and chill in his eyes made it seem like he felt every bit of his years.

He probably hadn't learned the encirclement strategy they ran earlier from playing Halo either.

It wasn’t until the blue of the kid’s eye knocked him with a scrutinizing gaze that Dean realized he had been staring.

"What do you know of the Rit Zien?"

And whoa did he have a voice. Deep and graveled and demanding the truth. Dean may have been shocked when the kid jumped into action earlier, practically ordering him and Sam around like pawns. But to mention the Executioners? They were oldest underground gang for a reason; people didn't just know their name, even if they did have factions every continent.

His eyes trailed over the kids face. The kid that really didn't look like much of a kid anymore, with his shoulders back and focused on Dean. He wondered what had made them so hard.

"How do you know them?" Sam asked from behind him, causing blue eyes to shoot towards his brother. Dean let the tension fall from his shoulders and the air escape from his lungs but continued to watch the dark haired enigma.

"You are on my property. I do not have to answer your questions." Deep words came out confidently, causing Sam let out a huff. Dean smiled. Fiery one.

The man on the ground pulled their attention with a large groan, turning himself onto his side. He grunted a few more times before opening his eyes. When he registered the three men over him, his eyes bulged and he whispered "Liberum” into the grass.

His hands popped free from the rope.

Dean cursed and he and Sam were on him in a second, both grabbing at his hands and trying to get them back into the binding. But the Rit Zien was fast. His wrist broke free from their grip, it only took a moment for the hand to move to the man’s forehead, and then both brothers were entirely covered, from head to toe, in pink dust.

He groaned, trying to wipe off as much dust as he could. Looking over towards their blue-eyed companion to see his reaction, to know just how much he really knew.

Apparently not enough to keep his jaw from dropping at almost a comedic length. "They - .. What -...?" He stumbled back, eyes raising to Dean again only this time in wide with fear. "They can't have this much power."

"How do you even know who they are?" Sam asked, trying to get the pink dust of human everything out of his hair.

Dean knew the answer when he saw the jaw snap back shut, spine straighten and eyes drop, looking for an answer - a lie. He cut in. "Kid’s military, can't you tell? Doesn’t want to go around telling Uncle Sam's secrets it seems."

A blush blossomed on those porcelain cheeks in reply and damn it if Dean's lip didn't lift into a smile. He may be a tough guy but he was still a kid caught between rules and curiosity.

Dean took pity on him and offered out a hand. "We're the Winchesters. I'm Dean, this is Sam."

The pause lingered for a moment to long, freezing his hand in mid-air. Dean wondered if the Vet was going to try to kick them off the property for good, but that wouldn't happen because there was no way they could leave here without finding out what he knew.

When a hand finally lifted in response, Dean noticed its tremor before sliding his eye towards the missing tendon. He stiffened. He knew this mark, the mark of the Rit Zien. He looked back up to the man in surprise, every finger and limb and scrape of skin he lost on the rack suddenly coming back to him in a rush. The steel eyes caught his and must have warmed by something they saw because the cold dropped and he was greeted with a blinding smile. Dean let out a breath. "I’m Novak, Castiel Novak."

...

They were all huddled in his small attic room, he perched on his small twin bed, Dean pacing again and the tall one - Sam - having to slouch under the arched ceiling. Dean had his arms crossed, this time not in anxiety but frustration, and Castiel let himself have a smile when he noticed the man was as broad chested as he had originally thought. He knew it was not the time or place for his attractions to flare up, they were in the middle of an attack after all.

But a man had exploded to pink in his backyard.

It was not a sun-induced mirage or late night hallucination, but an actual event. Moreover, the Winchesters didn't seem as surprised as he did about the occurrence. He wanted to know why.

But neither party wanted to give information to the other. Mid stubborn-off, Castiel finally sighed and he watched Dean smirk, obviously thinking he won. Those lips turned to a pout when Castiel said, "How about quid pro quo."

"Fine." Sam grumbled.

"How do you know what the Rit Zien are?” Castiel heard him and Dean ask in unison and he let out a deep laugh in the face of Dean's glare.

"Fine, fine. My idea, I'll answer first. I met them abroad. Now answer me.” Castiel demanded. He needed to know that they were not members of the underground world, that he could trust them to be something more than another hit man or suicide bomber.

Dean shrugged. “Read about them in a book.”

"You met the Rit Zien abroad?" Sam broke in, sounding confused.

Castiel’s brow furrowed. "I just answered this, is that your question?"

Sam shook his head in what looked like exasperation while Dean decided to stepped forward. Castiel turned to him hoping that his question would move this practice along. He wanted answers.

"Where abroad?"

Castiel expected the obvious follow up question but still dropped his eye, forced to remember a near miss in a white stone alley, and that time spent too long in a dark basement. Then, the other time. His voice replied with a perfected control. "Kano, Baghdad, and Mogadishu."

"Kay..” Dean answered.

"What was that pink dust?" Castiel asked quickly.

“It’s witchcraft.” Sam answered nonchalantly, as if his words weren’t complete nonsense.

Castiel lips pressed into a thin line. “This will not work if you lie.”

The brothers looked at each other, an entire conversation happening in a silent stare that spanned no more than seconds. Sam shrugged and Dean turned towards him, catching his eye with a soothing glance like he was about to explain something to a very small child. In the afternoon light, Castiel was momentarily distracted by calm green eyes.

“Monsters exist.”

Two words and reality heavily settled back on his shoulders.

“I know.”

“Not them.” Sam frowned, gesturing to the walls decorated with articles about bombings and combat. “Real monsters. Demons, shapeshifters, vampires, wendigos. Even witches. All on them.”

He felt Dean’s eyes on him as he considered the other man’s words. They were both obviously insane it seemed, which was unfortunate because he liked the way it felt to be under Dean’s stare. But all he could do was consider the facts in front of him. A man that used to be a man was now pink fertilizer. He could choose to move forward accepting their reality or not.

“Let’s say you two are not entirely insane, why are witches attacking our military forces?”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s what you ask? Why they are attacking the military. They were at your front door!”

Sam cleared his throat. “Um, it’s actually our turn to ask a question. So…why are they after you?”

Castiel hadn’t considered until that moment that the attack was targeted on him. He had hoped he could consider the men in front of responsible for dragging two members of the Rit Zien to his door. But maybe not.

The sound of Carry On My Wayward Son blared across the attic and Dean jolted at the sound. He fumbled for his cell, flipping it open. “Agent Plant.”

He listened to Dean’s affirmative grunts into the phone, thinking back to his last encounter with the underground world. Two months away from the end of tour, out on a routine supply mission. His eyes were on the ocean when it happened, just a slip of the second and two of his closest friends lay dead on the sun-soaked stone. Three of them captured…

“I’ll go, Dean.” He heard Sam say and Castiel returned to the attic. Time had skipped. Now he was in the room alone with Dean and his memories. He tried to remove the backdrop of sand from the room.

Dean must have used the missing time to sit next to him on the bed and the twin barely held two grown men, despite sitting side-by-side. Castiel glanced to the pistol sitting on the nearby desk.

Noticing the glance, Dean moved his hand towards his own gun while at the same time whispering. “We don’t want to hurt you, you know. We’re the good guys.”

Good guys. What did that even mean when everyone carried weaponry? “I know, I just like knowing it’s there.”

Dean bumped his shoulder softly against his. “I know what you mean.”

“I don’t know why they are after me or why they would even remember me.” Castiel whispered into the space between them. He’d never spoken about the Rit Zien unless directly ordered by a superior officer. Only once, right before his discharge.

“They let you go.”

Castiel looked down at his hands, splayed on his thighs. His eyes trailed his left hand, over the five calloused fingers, then they shifted to the other one. He trailed a finger over the knuckle, sliding it over the clean cut of healed tissue.

“They wanted me to deliver a message.”

What message?” Dean asked, hand reaching over to lay his hand on top of Castiel’s, gripping them both. “

He let out a puff of a laugh, looking up to meet Dean’s eye. He realized how close they were and shifted to bring some space between them. He answered the question with a clear head. “That’s classified information.”

Dean baulked, eyes widening. “So are monsters!”

“It is not my fault you are unable to keep your factions secrets.” Castiel bristled.

Dean stammered. “Faction? I’m not a soldier in an army. I’m a hunter.”

“What’s the difference?”

Dean reddened. “I get to choose who I tell things to, for one!”

“We’ll then tell me, why were you and your brother following that first man. The one that still lies cold in my front entryway, that you two probably killed…”

“He had it coming! Head hauncho of the Illinois Rit Zien, we caught his scent after a couple of mysterious murders all over the state. The one downstairs seems to be the only one not dabbling in witchcraft.”

“Is that why he didn’t turn into dust?”

Dean nodded and then his eyes swung towards Castiel, green eyes burning up the earlier calm. “There, now you got me to tell you everything we know!”

Castiel smirked and looked up at the hunter through his lashes, hoping Dean would take his mild interrogation tactics well. He was surprised when Dean responded by tossing an arm over his shoulder and pulling him flush against his side, chuckling. Their lips were only inches apart and Dean’s glossed in a captivating way. Castiel felt his pulse quicken.

The hold didn’t last long, Dean released him and Castiel was forced to shift, crossing his legs to hide any obvious reaction to their proximity. Dean seemed animated by his own confession and Castiel was able to watch as his eyes crinkled and his tongue dashed out to lick his lips, eager to continue his explanation. “We know that most of the other Rit Zien are into magic because the initiation spell leaves pink dots on this neck. We’re just trying to take them out before they take out more humans.

Castiel lifted an eyebrow, amused. “Just you and your brother?”

“We’ve taken on worse.”

“What’s worse than the largest underground terror cell in the world?”

Dean shrugged. “The Devil.”’

Castiel was caught up in another moment of disbelief. It was unlike him to be thrown easily, but maybe he just hadn’t met the Winchester’s yet. “You’re serious.”

“So the Rit Zien aren’t that bad.”

A hysterical bubble of laughter erupted in Castiel’s throat and it propelled him backwards, sprawling on the tiny bed. He absentmindedly traced his thumb along the rough scar tissue of his trigger finger.

Dean twisted around so that he faced Castiel, lightly trailing a finger over his denim thigh. “You okay there, Cas?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting Dean’s light finger trail distract him from his memories. The skin of his leg prickled and he turned his leg without thinking. The finger just continued its path along the sensitive inner part of his thigh, pulling the words out of him. With his eyes still closed he spoke, “They told me to tell the US Government that they were coming.”

The finger stopped moving, becoming a warm palm and a firm hold. Castiel didn’t want to open his eyes for fear he’d chase it all away.

“How long were you with them?” The soft words asked for such hard answers.

“Two years.”

Dean swore, fingers clenching on his leg. “You had to only be…”

“Nineteen.” He supplied with surprising ease, like the darkness of his closed eyelids kept him from the truth or maybe the hand that rubbed, almost unconsciously up and down his inner thigh had lulled him into a haze of peace.

“I’ve been…” Dean began, words cutting off as he swallowed a tremble. “Before my brother and I stopped Lucifer, I spent some time in his playground.”

Castiel’s eyes opened, shock bringing his body up to rest on his elbows. Dean’s eyes were trained to his hand where it had stopped to rest just above Castiel’s knee. “How long?”

Dean snorted an ugly laugh. “Depends on who you ask. Four months or forty years.”

He gasped, eyes skimming over Dean’s hunched shoulders looking for any sign, any scars. Green eyes turned towards him with determination and self-contempt, a mixture that only those broken and rebuilding could understand. Then Castiel watched as Dean shook off the memories like he would a coat, straightening his shoulders and letting it roll down with a shake. He then turned to throw a genuine and bright smile towards Castiel. “But that’s all in the past. Now we get the Rit Zien.”

Castiel looked at him with a sort of awe, if he was to be believed, the man had been tortured in Hell and now has the ability to cast it all away. The earlier spark of attraction bloomed and he laughed. “You are incredible, Dean Winchester.”

Dean eyes crinkled, surprised, but Castiel didn’t give him any time to respond, his body propelled forward, almost on its own accord, leaving him with only enough wits to stop when their lips were inches apart.

Castiel blushed furiously, realizing his enthusiasm had placed him far into the man’s personal space, but he did not pull away.

Dean eyed him with mischief. Castiel felt his breath catch at the glint, it was all the response he needed to close the space. The force of him pushed Dean back slightly but Castiel followed, eager to lick across the lip Dean had taunted him with earlier. The heat of Dean’s mouth opened to him and Castiel crawled into the man’s lap, wanting the control of his hands behind short hair.

Dean gasped against his lips, opening him up even further to Castiel’s onslaught. He wanted to devour this man. Coming into his house with a fight and a fate worse than his own, but still able to pull away and throw him a wicked smile. Dean rested large hands against his hips and rubbed slowly along the skin as he watched Castiel’s response through dilated eyes.

“We’ll aren’t you quite a surprise? First the Rit Zien and now – ”

Castiel cut him off with one well-positioned grind of his hips and Dean moaned in pleasure, head thrown back, control slipping.

“You’re the one that broke into my house and you call me the surprise.” Castiel laughed until hands rubbed from outside the hip to tease along the curve of his inner thigh, fingers skimming along his hard length. He clenched his legs against Deans, feeling his lips break open over a silent moan.

“So sensitive.” Dean smiled. “It’s been forever since I’ve…”

“Me too.” Castiel agreed with another press of his hips. “Since before…”

Dean kissed him again, pulling his weight down into Dean’s meeting thrust. Castiel broke away in a moan, Dean continued his trail of kisses against his neck, moving Castiel’s head to the side with a soft nuzzle, wanting greater access.

When Dean met his collar, he stopped to let little bites trail along the edge. Castiel growled at the tease and pushed him back onto the bed. He wanted to feel the whole of Dean’s warmth against his skin as it seared through their clothes. He continued to grind them together with an increasing pace, feeling Dean’s length against their own.

His button catching on the tip of Dean’s growing erection and the friction caused them both to groan loudly and still for a moment. Dean looked up at him with dark eyes, almost surprised before turning his swollen lips into a wolfish smile and ripping his shirt off.

Castiel watched the broad chest tighten with goosepimples and couldn’t resist reaching over and softly biting the shoulder. Dean moaned and Castiel reached for him again but Dean stopped him with a hand to the hem of his t-shirt. Castiel nodded eagerly and in a second they were sitting at the edge of his twin bed shirtless but too far apart. All he wanted to do was reach across and let them spiral into the warm heat of skin-on-skin.

Dean stopped them and Castiel let out a noise he refused to call a whine, trying to reach again.

Dean laughed and moved to stand up, pulling a bewildered Castiel with him. He sucked in a breath when he felt strong fingers flick open his button, undo the zipper carefully over his now prominent erection. He lowered the pants inch by inch, so the fabric brushed along his legs and caused the hair to raise from his legs. Then he had to endure the torture of seeing Dean on his knees, mischievous smile back on his lips, as he slowly removed both socks.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Dean raised back to his legs and Castiel was able to let out a breath. Unembarrassed to stand naked in front of the other man. Castiel wanted him, now. Dean may have slowed them down but he wanted to feel again, so he closed the two steps between them, and pulled their lips back together, moaning as Deans arms came around his lower back, slid over the top of his swell of his ass.

Dean broke them apart, laughing again at his enthusiasm and Castiel assumed the man did not understand just how good looking he was, with those swollen pouty lips and seeking green eyes. That was just his face, as eyes continued down Castiel almost whined again at the pert nub of aroused nipple.

“Don’t worry, Cas.” Dean said softly, pressing their bodies together and moving them towards the bed. “I got you.”

As their hips slotted together heat exploded under Castiel’s skin and he grasped to the broad shoulders, nails turned inwards so he could dig into the muscle and thrust himself up. Dean shushed him again, trying to direct Castiel into a slow kiss but Castiel had other things in mind.

He grabbed their lengths together with his good hand, letting the little drops of precome dripping from their slits and sliding down, collecting in his hand to add wet heat. They both moaned as he picked up the pace.

Dean let out a shaky breath. “Oh fuck, Cas, you feel so good.”

Castiel’s whole body was vibrating and he started to thrust out of rhythm, so close, orgasm building.

“Don’t end the party too soon.” Dean’s deep voice said in his ear as Castiel bucked wildly against him.

“I can’t – ” Castiel rocked up and up, into the now wet space between them, harder and harder, building again. He didn’t want to stop, couldn’t, not even with Dean whispering soothing nothings into his ear amidst the moans. He just grabbed them both harder with one hand, the other grasping white knuckle alone his shoulders as he thrust up from the bed.

He brought his hand to the tip of their erections, grabbing tightly before sliding slowly down and Dean lost it. The orgasm seemed to astonish the man, lips parting and eyes searching Castiel through heady dark pupils. He collapsed his weight on Castiel after a moment. “Damn.”

Castiel dropped his hand, whipping the mix of come along the side of Dean’s chest and his dick gave a feeble twitch of the sight of their pleasure on the man’s tantalizing chest. “Yes.” He said breathlessly. “You couldn’t be more right.”

Dean laughed. “Weren’t we doing something?”

An eyebrow lifted as Castiel moved to settle his head on the man’s shoulder, sighing when he felt a hand thread through his hair. “I think that body is still downstairs.”

“Heh, completely forgot.”

“I don’t think my siblings will if it’s there when they get home but I think I can move.”

…

Dean looked down at the puff of jet black hair, lean body chilling with sweat and wished he could stay in this attic longer. But the soldiers words had reminded them both of their current predicament. Dean didn’t need to drag the soldier back into this mess though. So small against his body, fragile in his arms, this man was now a civilian. He couldn’t ask him to enter the world again.

With a groan he pulled up, watching Castiel’s head hit the mattress with a soft thunk and received a glare for his offensive shift. Dean knew Castiel was probably a fierce warrior on the battlefield, but right now he was a pouting lump of loose limbs with a bright eyes that shined through his scowl.

“You can stay here all comfortable. I can deal with the body.” He pushed into sitting position but still didn’t move to get his pants. He didn’t need the soft hand on his back to stop him but happy it appeared anyway.

“I will be seeing this thing through Dean.”

He didn’t know if the man’s words were about him or the Rit Zien but it assured him regardless. He wasn’t ready to walk out of this man’s life.

“Plus, you’ll need my help anyway.”

Dean quirked the corner of his smile, turning his head to look over Castiel, arms crossed behind his head and long lines spanning under an offending sheet. “Why’s that?”

“I’m pretty sure the Winchesters know absolutely nothing about the Pontiac, Illinois suburbs.”

He chuckled again, recognizing that it had been a long while since he had laughed so much. He let a finger trail again, this time down the soft skin of his chest.

Castiel refused to let them get distracted though, intent on moving the body before he traumatized his siblings. In less time than Dean liked, the pale skin was covered with t-shirt and jeans and Dean sighed, feeling like he was cheated of an afterglow.

“Come on.” Castiel said, smacking his ass as he walked by. Dean jumped but smiled, at least he wasn’t cheated out of more time with this ridiculous kid, man, soldier, whatever. Now that he had seen the man thrive under him, he wasn’t ready to just let him go so soon.

When they made it to their nearby motel, Sam seemed surprised that Dean brought Castiel along. Even more surprised when Dean let Castiel’s get away with his blatant disregard for personal space.

They had walked in with hands brushing, Castiel seemed to be obsessed with leaning over his shoulder and sitting too close. Sam’s eyebrows would rise but Dean never cringed away. In fact, a hum had started under his skin and every time the soldier leaned in, it built.

They were looking at a map on Pontiac, trying to figure out which location the Rit Zien were probably using as headquarters. Castiel was correct in assuming him and his brother knew nothing about the place, so they let him take the lead.

Castiel leaned in again, this time over the chair that Dean sat in, to point at another possible location. He caught the confused glint of blue eye when Dean tensed at their proximity before another blush broke over the cheeks. Dean almost thanked the angels that the little note of embarrassment hadn’t ended with him and Cas’s earlier actions because it was just delicious. But then he remembered the angels were usually jerks and sent a silent thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Novak.

Oh fuck, he was besotted. He hated the word, only even entered his vocabulary because his nerd of a brother. But he tried to be truthful with himself and he knew it applied to Cas entirely. Another loss of the road. Cause the man belonged here and they belonged fighting. At least Cas would understand because he had left people behind on account of a mission before too. Siblings, probably friends, maybe even a fling or two.

“Best bet is this one. The other three are too remote for easy access to the roads, one of them isn’t even on the map – so they would need to have local knowledge and the Rit Zien aren’t welcoming to outsiders. That leaves the abandoned building off State Road 11. Zoned industrial and probably has a basement...”

Somewhere along his speech, Castiel had placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, finger carting through the fine hairs at the base of his neck. He didn’t even know if Cas knew he was doing it but Sam sure saw, trying to suppress a grin. Dean saw for a moment the future laid out before him just like this, the three of them hunting, them sneaking private glances and soft touches, disgusting the hell out of Sammy.

“…the Rit Zien are fond of basements.”

The words soaked Dean’s fantasy with reality. Castiel was a civilian. He earned his role off the battlefield like the bravest of men, scarified enough. Dean couldn’t ask him to walk away from that to join the life of a hunter. He’s a veteran now, it’s not his problem anymore.

“We should go check it out now, see what we’re dealing with.” Sam offered, eye back on the map.

Castiel nodded, reaching for his coat.

“You should stay here.”

Stopping mid pulling on his coat, Castiel tilted his head with confused. “Why would I do that? I told you I’m seeing this through.”

A tint of vengeful rage underlined Castiel’s tone. Dean knew that tone, heard it whenever he heard himself or Sam talk about Yellow-Eyes. Dean’s eyes glanced at the missing finger.

It was a bad move. He could see Cas tense from across the room, and his voice growled. “I am more than capable, Dean. As you well know.”

“I didn’t mean –”

“Let’s just go.” Castiel cut in.

“No!” Dean demanded, needing to explain. “I know you can do this Cas, but why should you have too? You’re not a soldier anymore.”

Castiel’s eyes warmed from cold steel to hard appraisal. “Neither are you.”

“He’s good on his feet, Dean.” Sam interrupted, walking towards the door. “Let’s just bring him.

The Impala pulled up along a large abandon warehouse in the middle of nowhere, forest on either side and almost five miles off the main highway. Someone could be screaming for days here and not a soul would know it.

From the back seat, Castiel sniffed. “Looks like something they’d use. How do we know they haven’t detected your car?”

“We don’t.” Dean answered. “If anyone comes out we can tell them we’re dropping off the head hauncho in the trunk.”

Sam laughed but Castiel looked at him through the rearview mirror, confused. “I think that would only escalate the situation.”

Sam laughed. “Look, we have everything we need to go in right now. Element of surprise and the bones of their friend as a ransom piece in our back pocket, if we need it.”

“We’re just going to go in without any strategy, guns blazing?”

Dean laughed at Castiel’s dumbfounded tone. “That’s how we roll.”

He opened the door to his Baby and stepped into the grassy shoulder of the road. Sam pulled alongside him, followed by a hesitant Castiel. “That is a horrible way to roll, Dean.”

“It’s fine, Castiel. We’ve already taken out two-thirds of their faction.” Castiel perked up at the assurance and Dean had the urge to kick Sam in the shin. He liked riling up the all-business soldier part of Cas.

They passed out weaponry, but Castiel shook his head at the offer, pulling out his own pistol from earlier. It looked like a service weapon. When Castiel deftly slid out the magazine and loaded the bullets, Dean’s pulse picked up and he had to look away. The man’s eye focused on the tiny pieces of metal, expertly grasped between his thumb and middle finger.

Dean had assumed the missing finger was the cause of his discharge but the practiced way he moved passed it made him question that assumption. Castiel turned to look at him when the gun was loaded, eyes dark looking at Dean’s intrigued face and sent him a knowing smile.

“You might want to load your gun, Dean.”

The taunt shook him back to their preparations, needing to focus on the battle ahead. When they were ready they followed the perimeter of the forest, well into the line of trees, till they found a steel door, leading into the cellar.

“They’d be there.” Castiel whispered, despite being far from any potential threat. But who knows, maybe Cas could sense some hidden traps in the trees. “Let’s go.”

Cas took the lead and Dean huffed, not wanting him to be the one sent head first into danger and he moved ahead as they climbed down the stairs into the dank, dark basement. The large room open room had two string lights flickering, casting enough for them to make out the three men sitting in around a pentagram.

They were already staring a the trio when they hit the bottom of the stairs.

“There went our element of surprise.” Dean joked.

He caught Castiel’s eye and saw them flash back, hard as gemstones. “We won’t need it.”

Then he turned, gun outstretched and fired three shots. The men fell, blood flowing from their wounds, smearing along the broken pentagram.

Dean stared, awed, at the man as his middle finger slowly released from the trigger.

From above they heard the footsteps of two more men. They moved as one away from the cellar door, keeping their back to the wall. When the two men bounded down the stairs. Castiel shot the first man before Dean could let out a breath.

The second man stopped short, pink tattooed dots shining in the dim light. “Winchesters.”

Their name on his lips bought him some time as Castiel lowered his gun. Dean looked at Sam, both deciding to let Cas take the lead. “How do you know their name?”

“The Rit Zien may be new to the Supernatural, but every knows the Winchesters. How do you know them, Novak?”

“How do you know him?” Dean cut in, not like the way the Rit Zien had spat Cas’s name.

The Rit Zien turned towards Cas, feral smile swallowing his face. “We go way back, right Cas? Remember the ocean?”

Castiel lifted his gun and shot the man in the leg. Sam cursed from next to him barely heard over the man’s screams. “Why are you here?”

“I will tell you nothing.” The Rit Zien swore.

“Then you will die.”

A shot rang out and the last member of Rit Zien’s only known US faction fell to the floor.

They dumped the head hancho in the cellar and made their way back to the hotel. Dean couldn’t stop thinking of the way Castiel’s eye glinted when he faced the Rit Zien, the fierce power. It sent a trill of something that was definitely not fear down his spine.

Sam left them to call in a fake 911 call and go pick them up some dinner before hitting the road. Dean was throwing his clothes into his duffle, trying to think of something to say to Cas that would result in them, naked, on the bed one last time.

“You and your brother take off quickly after a battle.”

Dean looked over his shoulder. Now the man chooses to stand far across the room. “We can’t get our hands dirty. Had problems in the past with law enforcement.”

Castiel bit his lip and looked every bit the kid Dean had finally stopped considering him to be. He looked over to Dean shyly, having to take a sharp breath before closing the space between them. “I could go with you.”

Dean dropped the shirt he had been shoving into his bag. “What?”

“Hunting.” Castiel shrugged, like it was no big deal but hope still flickered in his eye.

“I know that’s what you meant, Cas.” He began, turning to place his hands on the man’s hips. A frame so slender and young but trained and powerful. “We aren’t going to be following the Rit Zien. It isn’t our role to eliminate all of them, if that’s what your seeking.”

Castiel’s eyes dropped and Dean knew that he had understood correctly, that Castiel wanted to take vengeance on the ones who took from him. He didn’t want to come with them for Dean.

“I don’t care.”

Eyes snapped up. When had they gotten so close?

“What?”

“Witches, vampires, shapeshifters. Whatever those Wendigo things are. I could help.” Castiel slid his hand around his waist and Dean started at the hands fluttering over his ass.

“Why would you want too?” Dean asked, breath short.

Castiel lifted his eyebrow and brought his lips to softly press over Dean’s, he pulled back gently but didn’t move far. “You have to ask?”

The blush again and Dean’s knees almost buckled. “Unless you don’t want me, Dean Winchester.”

Dean smiled at the faked confidence, the headstrong soldier bravado that masked his vulnerability and he leaned in to kiss him again. The soft push of lips turning as Castiel opened, let him in and Dean wanted to take more, could take more, as it was offered. He grasped Cas tighter against him, felt the flush overtake his skin as lips found the side of his neck. He didn’t want to pull away but he wanted Cas to know. Cas whined, and he would love how that sound emitted when Cas lost Dean’s skin from under his lips for the rest of his days.

“I guess we have room for one more.”


End file.
